as a united house we stand
by V. Sourweather
Summary: A collection of stories written for The Houses Competition, Year 5. Latest: Hermione and Draco don't hate each other as much as they hate people like themselves.
1. Victory (Lily Evans Potter)

Summary: Lily saves someone's life for the first time, and she hasn't felt more victorious in her life.

Rating: T

Warning: Character death

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any money out of this story.

.:.

Written for:

**[THC – Round 1]**

**House:** Slytherin

**Class:** DADA

**Category:** Drabble

**Prompt: **6\. (emotion) victorious

Word count (without the A/N): 753 words

* * *

_**Victory: **_**Lily Evans Potter**

* * *

The first time Lily Potter saves someone's life, she's alone to comfort the scared little Muggle girl, hunched over on the floor, but she's never felt more victorious.

Lily walks closer to the little girl and puts a hand on her shoulder, causing the young girl to look up at her with her big, brown eyes. It looks like the child is begging her to do something, to make her not frightened anymore, and Lily can't do anything about that.

Still, she _can_ give the girl some of her strength. The young woman crouches before the little girl and murmurs, "You don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here, and the bad guys can't hurt you if I'm here."

The younger girl doesn't react, she just stares at her, and Lily can't help but feel bothered by it, can't help but feel her victorious feeling sink to the floor.

She looks around and sees the Death Eater, and she wonders if she wouldn't be better off taking care of _him_, dropping him at Alastor Moody's feet. She could be rejoicing with James, telling him that she has finally felt strong and victorious and just useful, but then again… If she left that little girl alone, she wouldn't be human.

Lily sighs and presses the young girl's shoulder with her hand. Strength. Everything would be easier if there was a spell allowing her to give the child that. But there isn't, and she squeezes the young girl's shoulder, enough to possibly bruise her, perhaps. But Lily needs her to listen.

"Listen to me," Lily tells the little girl. "Look around, and tell me if you see anything you need to be afraid of."

Slowly, the young girl obeys and looks around, her frightened eyes taking everything in. They land on the Death Eater and she gasps, but Lily's there to reassure her.

"He can't hurt you. Or me. And as long as I'm here, no one will do anything to you. I promise you that, little one."

Lily realizes she doesn't even know the girl's name, and she's about to ask her when the young girl speaks up. "Helen. My name is Helen." Her voice is frail and trembling, but she has finally spoken up, and Lily sighs in relief.

"Good, Helen. My name is Lily. Now if you can stand up…"

Helen does, but her legs are shaking and Lily keeps her arm around the girl. She can't let her go, Lily can't let that little child fall back into the terror she's been wallowing in ever since the Death Eater threatened her.

"Helen. Listen to me. Take a few deep breaths and control yourself. I'll bring you to your parents, if you can tell me where they are?"

"At the restaurant," Helen answers. "But they—But Nanny… Is Nanny…?"

Lily can see it, the terror coming back to drown the little girl in its terrible depths. She kneels down in front of Helen and brushes the child's hair away from her face. Her hands are as comforting as she can make them, but it's not enough to stop Helen's tears.

"Nanny's dead," Helen whispers like she's telling a secret.

"I know. But you have to be strong. You cannot let that… that _person_ scare you. You can't let him win. _You _have won against him. And you have to stop being scared. For Nanny, for me, and more importantly, for yourself."

Helen takes a deep breath, fights back her tears, and nods.

"That's right," Lily continues. "You are still here, he isn't, and you're the victor."

"That's not right," Helen counters. "You are. You saved me."

And the little girl is looking at her with something akin to adoration in her eyes now, and somehow, it makes Lily's heart melt.

When she gets home that night, Lily smiles sweetly at James and kisses him warmly. He asks her if her mission ended that well, and she laughs. She tells him how she saved Helen's life, and omits the part where she couldn't save her nanny (she tries not to think about it herself, really), and he looks at her with pride in his eyes.

"It's the first time I've saved someone's life on a mission," Lily tells her husband. "I just feel so—"

"Victorious, right?" he completes. "Yeah, it's exactly what it's supposed to feel like."

He opens a bottle of champagne and pours her a glass, and the way he gazes at her just makes her feel like Helen was right; today, she _is_ the victor.


	2. The End of Us (Marlene & Regulus)

_Summary:__ Marlene and Regulus argue again; their ways of seeing the world are just too different._

_Rating:__ T_

_Warning:__ Referenced canonical character death_

_Disclaimer:__ Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any money out of this story._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC - Round 1]**_

_**House: **__Slytherin_

_**Class: **__DADA_

_**Category:**__ Standard_

_**Prompt:**__ 2\. (speech) "How is it possible that someone as intelligent as (you / Name) can be so unfathomably dense?"_

_Word count (without the A/N): 1,139 words_

* * *

_**The End of Us: **_**Marlene McKinnon and Regulus Black**

* * *

Marlene stared at Regulus and opened her mouth to berate him. She couldn't stand his attitude, his… his lack of common sense! Did he really think that she only cared about him leaving her for joining the dark side because… because he would give the Dark Lord information about her? No, it wasn't that! She was scared for him, and he didn't get it.

And then she realized. She closed her mouth and sadness filled her eyes. He just wanted to join the Death Eaters. He wanted that, and this want, this need, had become stronger than his feelings for her.

"You're stupid," she finally whispered.

"Marlene." Regulus sighed. "You don't understand, I—"

"_I_ don't understand? _You're_ the one who doesn't understand! Do you really think that I could be with someone who's—who's on _his_ side?"

"No, I don't," Regulus answered curtly. "But it was never supposed to be easy between us. Meeting in secret, kissing and not telling anyone about it. We know how to keep secrets, and we can keep going down that road."

"No, we can't. Don't you get it, Black? We can't. Because I'm not the kind of girl you just… you just use until—until you make a stupid-ass decision and you ruin everything!"

Regulus stayed silent for a little while, his grey eyes boring into Marlene's blue eyes, and then he shook his head, almost in defeat. "You think I used you?" he asked her, his voice low.

She wanted to scream at him and tell him that of course he used her—that's what Slytherins always did, but there was something in the way he looked at her that gave her pause. It wasn't defeat lurking in there, it was hurt, and when she answered, she didn't even believe what she said.

"Slytherins use people, Death Eaters are even worse."

"I'm not a Death Eater yet," he countered. "And you're not fighting us yet, so—why not keep going like this?"

And she felt herself give in a little. She didn't want to. There was nothing she wanted more in the world than to fight him, to fight this need to be with him, but she was young and stupid and maybe just a little in love, so she accepted to go down that dangerous road.

But she left before he could approach her. And she told herself that maybe, next time she'd see him, she'd finally have the courage to let him go. She should have gathered that little bit of bravery a long time ago; as a Gryffindor, she should have been brave enough to do it. But when it came to feelings and liking and love, there wasn't a bit of her that wanted to face her fears.

* * *

Marlene glared at his left forearm; she knew what was there now, and she wondered how he could not tell her. That was—

"That would have been the end of us, Marlene!" Regulus exclaimed, panic lacing his voice.

"No, that is the end of us. I'm done, Black. I'm really done this time. I can't—I can't see you, I can't look at your arm without feeling… disgusted, so how could we keep going?"

"Are you really breaking up with me now, McKinnon?"

"Do you really need to ask that question, Black?" And she saw it in his eyes that he already knew the answer, so she continued, "I warned you. I told you that it would be over the moment you would step into his ranks, and you did it anyway."

"Yes, I did it. And you know what, I don't even care that you're breaking up with me because of it. I. Don't. Care."

Marlene studied him for a few moments, and then she let out a small laugh. "You've always been a bad liar, Regulus," she said almost affectionately. "You're just trying to convince yourself now."

"I'm not."

"Of course you are." She looked at him a little more and decided that maybe, as her last act of courage for the day, she would let him in on her secret. On the true reason she was breaking up with him. "I've already lost my brother to the war. And maybe I'm going to be next, I don't know. I just know that I won't watch you die, that I won't watch the boy that I cared about so much being… ruined. _That's_ why I'm breaking up with you. _That's_ why I can't keep being with you."

And he stared at her, his mouth open in shock.

She was about to ask him what he was doing when he finally spoke up. "You cared about me," he repeated. "How much?"

Marlene didn't answer at first. Did he really not know that? Wasn't it obvious all along, that—

"You couldn't love me enough to tell others about us," Regulus continued bitterly.

She barked out a humourless laugh. "How is it possible that someone as intelligent as you can be so unfathomably dense? A Gryffindor girl and a Slytherin boy together? Really? You think people would have just… accepted it without so much as a second glance?" He shook his head silently, and she went on, every word a little more bitter than the previous one. "And your brother. I love him, he's my best friend, but he—he's so… disappointed in you, and he wouldn't have accepted us. Same goes for—wait, for all of my friends, actually."

He considered her a little longer and then sighed, running a hand through his long, dark hair (and she loved that hair, she loved running her fingers through it when he was lying his head on her lap and she loved to brush his messy strands of hair away from his face and she loved leaning in to kiss him, and she loved him, but—).

"It was never going to work out between us, was it?" he asked her slowly.

She shook her head and let him walk closer to her, and she smiled sadly when he told her that he was going to kiss her goodbye then. Because this was goodbye, this was—this was farewell.

She didn't know that a few years later, her best friend would write to her to tell her that his little brother had rebelled against the Dark Lord and had died in consequence of his actions (they didn't know though, they didn't—he was just missing, right?). She didn't know that she would spend a whole week crying herself to sleep every night, because in the end… Had it all been for her? Had it all been because he remembered how—how passionately they had kissed so many times, how secretly they had loved each other for so long? She didn't know that, and when she left him that summer day at the end of their seventh year, she almost didn't feel any regret.


	3. Burning Stare (Hermione & Viktor)

_Summary:__ Hermione tries to focus on her studies, but can't when Viktor Krum is around._

_Rating:__ K_

_Disclaimer:__ I own nothing, everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is made out of this story._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC - Round 2]**_

_**House:**__ Slytherin_

_**Class:**__ DADA_

_**Category:**__ Drabble_

_**Prompt:**__ 1\. [setting] Hogwarts Library_

_Word count (without the A/N): 654 words_

* * *

_**Burning Stare: **_**Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger**

* * *

Hermione leaned over the book she held in her hands. She didn't understand what was written down; she tried, she really did, but there was nothing she could do to really understand, and that just made her angry.

She grumbled to herself and winced when she heard the other students around her shush her. But they weren't the worst. She had to be more careful, or else Madam Pince would just lose her temper; and it wouldn't be the first time she assisted to one of Madam Pince's crisis.

She tried to focus even more on the strange symbols written down in the book, and she sighed when she found out she couldn't. There was something, or rather someone, holding her back.

She turned in her chair and searched for the person whose stare felt heavy on her neck. And she almost reddened when she realized it wasn't just someone. It was Viktor Krum. _Viktor Krum_ was staring at her. But she wasn't one to easily fangirl, so instead she glared at him with all her might.

He nodded to her in apology, and she huffed a breath out. Of course, she mentally made a note to accept his apology later. For now, she had homework to get done, and she definitely wouldn't be able to if he continued to stare at her that way.

But he kept doing it anyway. He really had seemed apologetic before, so she supposed it wasn't intentional, and she also guessed she should be flattered to be the centre of his attention. But if she had to choose between being the only focus of a boy (as famous as he was) and studying, she already knew which would come first.

She decided to tell him to stop instead and shut her heavy book closed. She stood up and strode over to him, and he seemed happy as she did so.

"Could you please stop looking at me that way?" she asked him tensely, instead of greeting him properly. She kept her voice low though; she wouldn't want to cause a scandal in the library. "It bothers me, I can't focus on my homework."

"I don't mean to," he apologized quietly.

"Then stop doing it," she snapped. As an afterthought, she added, "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you. But I can't focus and—Well, let's just say homework is something pretty important to me."

He smiled a crooked smile and nodded once. She awkwardly waved him goodbye and went back to her previous seat, only to find it occupied by someone else. She stopped in her movement and turned back to his table.

"Maybe I can help you," he offered shyly.

She briefly wondered why the great Viktor Krum seemed so shy a boy, but shrugged it off and sat in front of him, a tense smile on her lips.

"It's okay," she answered him. "I'll figure it out somehow."

And then she realized they might have talked too loud, because Madam Pince appeared on the corner of the alley and quite literally seethed at them, "If you cannot study quietly, out! Both of you!"

Hermione flushed at the brutal words. She should have known that they would be noticed in the end, and never having been under the ire of Madam Pince, she definitely wasn't ready for her harsh tone.

"Ve should get out," Viktor told her, a slight smirk on his face. "I vill help you vith this."

She hesitated. She had never felt more comfortable than at the Hogwarts Library to do her homework, but she'd tried that already and it had failed. And maybe Viktor would truly be able to help her. So she nodded with a little smile on her lips and they both walked out of the library.

And of course, on their way out, girls stared at her enviously. Hermione, however, found that she didn't care about their opinion in the least.


	4. Hate (Draco & Hermione)

_Summary:__ Hermione and Draco don't hate each other as much as they hate people like themselves._

_Rating:__ T_

_Warning:__ Language_

_Disclaimer:__ Nothing is mine, everything is J.K. Rowling's. No money is made out of this._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC – Round 2]**_

_**House:**__ Slytherin_

_**Class:**__ DADA_

_**Category:**__ Standard_

_**Prompt:**__ 2\. [speech] "I think I'm allergic to you."_

_Word count (without the A/N): 1,108 words_

* * *

_**Hate: **_**Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy**

* * *

Draco looks at the girl venomously. He isn't supposed to be here, with her. She's a Mudblood, and he's a Pureblood, and their people are not supposed to mingle together. He's been taught that all his life.

So he stares at her from across the room, and he isn't surprised when she speaks up. "Stop staring, Malfoy. It's rude. Haven't your parents taught you anything?"

He scowls at her but doesn't bother answering. It would just start another fight and really, they don't need that right now. _He_ doesn't need that right now. Being with her—being in the same room as her _all the damn time_—is the only way he'll be let out. He doesn't see the point though, but he's not about to tell them.

Why torture him into being in the same room as her, of all people? He would have been better off with another Mudblood, but not her. Not… Granger. He's starting to think they just thought of the best way to torture him, and the worst part is that _it's working_.

"Why you?" he suddenly snaps, and she frowns at him in lieu of an answer. "Why you and not somebody else?"

"Because they think I'm the only one able to stand your attitude," she finally answers, not even bothering to look at him. She's rummaging through her stuff in the other corner of the room and not paying any attention to him, and he can't help but think that she's gotten better at upsetting him.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" he tries again. "Ignoring me?"

"You were fine with me ignoring you during our years at Hogwarts. Sorry if you're disappointed, but I don't think me ignoring you is a problem, Malfoy."

"I'm not—" he starts, just wanting to contradict her, but then he realizes it would all be a lie. Of course he's disappointed she's ignoring him. He prefers taunting her to this—whatever she is playing at.

He stays silent then, until he says the first thing that comes to mind as she throws something at him. "I think I'm allergic to you. And by you, I mean—people like you. Really, it's like something catches in my throat every time I look upon a Mud—a Muggleborn."

He's glad he's remembered not to say the insult aloud. They've told him that at the first mistake on his part, they would send him to Azkaban for every single bad thing—bad _choice_—he's made in his life.

He snaps out of his thoughts and realizes she is glaring at him, her hazel eyes hard like steel and boring into his.

"And _I_ think I'm allergic to people like _you_," she taunts back. "You think you're better than us—how? Because you were born into a family that thinks they're superior to people like me?" She doesn't seem to realize it, but she's walking around the bed and advancing on him, and the only thing he can do is watch her like he is hypnotized. "It doesn't make you better, or smarter, or more—more _whatever_," she continues, her voice cutting him (he's gone too far, he's pushed her too far and there's no going back now). "It makes you obedient and—and like a…"

She trails off and sets her jaw. She sits on her bed and now that her rant is over, she lets her façade down and he can see how exhausted she truly is. Maybe it's the war, or maybe she's had a rough day at work (he knows she's working at the Ministry now, one of the youngest employees). But her head hangs low and her eyes are fixed on the ground, almost closing.

And he doesn't know why, especially since she's said all those terrible things about him and his family (but they're all true, aren't they?), but he blurts out, "I'm sorry."

At that, she starts and looks up at him, her brown eyes wide with surprise. "You're sorry?" she repeats incredulously. "What are you sorry for?"

"I don't know," he answers slowly. And it's the truth. He doesn't know if he's sorry for treating her so badly all these years, though he's almost sure it's not that, because he's treated her badly all his life and he's never felt sorry about it before. He doesn't know if he's apologizing for everything he's done to her during the war, because they're the worst things one can possibly imagine. He doesn't know why he's sorry, and the truth is, it kind of makes him mad.

And it makes him even madder to know that she has such an effect on him, so he tries to put on a mask and act as if he wasn't affected by her attitude, by her words. By his goddamn feelings that shouldn't be there in the first place but are.

She continues to look at him, and there's something like pity shining in her eyes. And if there is one thing he really is allergic to, it's that look. It's always that look, so he stands up and just runs away from her. He knows he won't be able to get very far before she catches him, but he tries anyway because _that look_ will be the death of him—he just knows it.

When she catches him, he's less than a mile away from her apartment in London. Of course, he hasn't gotten far from her home, but to his defence, he's just so lost in Muggle London.

"You can't go out, Malfoy," she tells him. "I could signal it to the others if I wanted to."

He waits until she's dragged him back to her apartment before he retorts. "But you won't. Tell the others that I ran off. Because you're always the chivalrous one, aren't you, Granger?"

"Chivalric?" she repeats, her eyebrows rising almost into her hairline. "I'm not more chivalric than you are. I did things, and maybe they're even worse than the things you've done. But because I'm on the 'good' side, people are willing to look past that."

She looks at the ceiling absently, and Draco understands her a little more then. Because he knows the things she's talked about. She's killed people, she's been forced to. And if there is one thing he isn't guilty of, it's that. Killing.

"You know one of the reasons I'm allergic to people like you, Malfoy?" she asks him, and she's turned on her side to look at him. "It's because I'm allergic to people like _me,_ too."

He nods once. Perhaps that is true for him as well. Perhaps the people he hates more in his life… Well, maybe they're just like _him_.


	5. never going to be enough (DorcasSirius)

_Summary:__ Dorcas and Sirius want things to work out between them—faith has other things in mind for them._

_Rating:__ T_

_Warning:__ Canonical character deaths_

_Disclaimer:__ Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any money out of this story._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC - Round 4]**_

_**House:**__ Slytherin_

_**Class:**__ DADA_

_**Category:**__ Drabble_

_**Prompt:**__ 1\. (song prompt) _Never Enough_, The Greatest Showman_

_Word count (without the A/N): 770 words_

* * *

_**never going to be enough:**_** Dorcas Meadowes and Sirius Black**

* * *

Dorcas didn't even realize it. As she stared at him, she didn't realize that she would never see the man in front of her again.

Sirius stared back at her, and there was love in his eyes (and she knew there was love in her eyes as well). It had always been enough between them; their love had always been all that mattered. He'd promised her the world—towers of gold, and the light of a thousand spotlights to shine in her eyes—and she'd promised him everything she could give him.

(But _it was never going to be enough_, and they should have known it.)

* * *

"Do you think it will work out between us?" she had asked him one day.

And of course, he had barked out a laugh and said, "Nothing could ever come between us, Dorie. Have a little faith for both of us, will you?"

She had shaken her head and kissed him, and it had felt wonderful. She'd really believed he was right.

(_But he wasn't_. She didn't know it yet, but he was _wrong_.)

* * *

"You have to let me go now, Sirius," she told him, trying to maintain a straight face. She couldn't, though, when he held her close to him like this.

"So soon? Almost seems to me like you want to go," he replied, pouting.

She placed a brief kiss on his lips and pulled away from him, stepping out of the bed. "I don't want to go. I have to. They're expecting me at headquarters."

"I know," Sirius sighed, and he looked at her as she pulled on her dress. "I'll miss you."

"Oh, come on! I never thought you would be that romantic!" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and he laughed a little, shaking his head a little. Her eyes followed the waves of his dark hair falling on his shoulders, and she caught herself before she could stare at his bare chest for too long a moment.

"I'll see you tonight." She smiled gently at him and walked out of his room. She paused on the doorstep though, and took one last look at him, who was staring after her. "I promise," she added before she left him.

(But that promise would be broken, just as all the other ones, because they were _wrong_ and they would _never_ be enough to vanquish all the evil in the world.)

* * *

She didn't realize it was the end until she felt hands grab her from behind. Her eyes widened and she panicked, because she already knew it was not someone friendly—how could they have found her though?

She'd told no one, and yet she was taken and it shouldn't be that way.

When she woke up though, she knew it wasn't just another nightmare; she didn't wake up with Sirius's arm laced around her waist, she didn't wake up alone in her own bed, she woke up in a dark, dark cell, and her breath caught in her throat at the _smell_.

No noise, the end. And a thought—_Darling, without you… It was never going to end well._

(And maybe in another world, maybe if it weren't for these awful circumstances, if it weren't for the war… Maybe then _they would have been enough_.)

* * *

It was a long, long time before Dorcas saw Sirius again. A lifetime, almost. Not that it really mattered, because she would have waited all eternity for him.

When he finally came home to her and Lily and James and Marlene and _everyone_, she smiled. Her grin was a little happy and a little sad, and she waited until he had finally finished apologizing and holding them closer than he ever had, and when he paused in front of her, she stepped forward.

She saw the tears in his eyes and she wiped them away when they fell.

"Shh…" she whispered, her fingers on his lips. "We're here now. We're here."

He nodded once, and then she was in his arms and she finally felt at home. It had been so long… so long. She had yearned for his arms and his kisses and just him, and now…

"I told you I would see you again, didn't I?" she murmured against her chest.

She stepped away from his arms and grinned up at him, holding a hand out for him to take.

"Take my hand," she encouraged him. "Come home now." And he did, James's hand on his shoulder and Marlene's laugh accompanying them as they walked away, up and up the hill towards their dream.

(_And this time, they were going to be enough._)


	6. Let It All Out (Lily Evans)

_Summary:__ Lily seeks her sister for comfort, and goes back home with an advice she intends to follow._

_Rating:__ K+_

_Disclaimer:__ Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is made out of this._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC - Round 5]**_

_**House:**__ Slytherin_

_**Class:**__ DADA_

_**Category:**__ Drabble_

_**Prompt:**__ 3\. [prompt] Sometimes all you need is a good cry._

_Word count (without the A/N): 993 words_

* * *

_**Let It All Out: **_**Lily Evans**

* * *

Lily Evans stands before her sister's door, and she is so scared. She, a brave Gryffindor, is scared of her Muggle sister. But she cannot help it; it's too hard because she remembers the last time she had seen Petunia.

Her sister had ended up screaming at her, treating her like she was nothing, and Lily cannot help but wonder why she is _here_ when all she needs right now is comfort. Her sister will not give her that. She won't. Lily knows it, and yet she's still here.

Slowly, she raises her hand and knocks on the door (and she prays that her sister is not there and she will have to go back to James and solve this all on her own).

The door opens after a few moments, and Petunia stares at her with her mouth hanging open. Finally, she seems to come back to her senses and checks the street and the gardens on either side of her house, craning her long neck.

She finally motions her sister inside, _probably because she doesn't want her neighbours to even see what a freak she has for a sister,_ Lily thinks mournfully.

"Why are you here?" Petunia asks Lily with a scowl after a few moments of heavy silence. "I thought I made myself clear when I said I didn't want anything to do with you anymore."

Lily winces slightly at the harsh words, and she crosses her arms on her chest. It's just a reflex to protect herself, but Petunia, with her hawk eyes that always seem to see right through her, sees and understands.

"I… don't really know why I came," the red-haired woman finally answers. "I just… had a fight with James. Again. And I'm starting to—"

"I am not really interested in your sweetheart problems, Lily." Her sister's voice is tense, but Lily is sure she can detect a note—it's barely there, but it's _there_—of compassion in her sister's voice. But Petunia's other family will _always_ come first now, and her older sister continues, "I need to rest, and I do not have time for your problems." Petunia puts a gentle hand over her slightly swollen stomach then.

Lily steps back slightly. Of course, the compassion has vanished entirely from Petunia's voice, but Lily is not surprised (and most of all, she feels guilty—_the baby, how could I forget about the baby?_). She understands; she's not wanted here, she has never been. So she turns around, tears springing up in her emerald eyes. _I will not cry_, she thinks. _I will not give her that satisfaction._

She hears her sister's voice behind her, though, calling her back. So she whirls around again, and she hopes, and her heart aches when she sees Petunia's blue eyes boring into hers. And there, underneath the hatred and the jealousy, Lily is sure she can _see_—

"I'm sure it will be fine though," Petunia says. "You've always made up before now. Just—just go to him and talk and _cry_ if you need to. Sometimes all you need is a good cry. Trust me, I've been there." A wry smile forms on Petunia's thin lips, and Lily is so grateful because _that_ is the sister she's missed for a long time.

She just nods though, doesn't speak. She doesn't want to ruin that precious little moment, probably the only one they will have for a long, long time.

"Goodbye, Lily," Petunia says.

Lily walks out of the house, her heart lighter than it had been when she had arrived. It doesn't last though, and when she arrives before the door of the apartment she shares with James in Muggle London, her breath catches in her throat.

What if he has already left? What if he's not willing to talk, to listen to her? What if—

The door opens and she looks up sharply. And there stands James, his glasses askew on his nose and his eyes full of something that resembles guilt.

He stares at her like he never expected to see her there, and then steps away from her path. She enters the apartment and he quietly closes the door behind her, and they stand there in an uncomfortable silence.

She had never expected it would come to this. To the suspicion and the doubts and everything else that had turned out _wrong_ between them. But then again, they are at war now, and they hadn't been when they had started dating during their seventh year. Everything is different, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to solve their problems. She does. More than anything, she does.

She opens her mouth to speak, but he does so before she can utter anything. "I think I need to leave, Lily," he whispers and looks at her intently. He knows he's hoping for understanding, but she's too shocked at hearing the words to give him that.

"You want to leave?" she repeats, and it doesn't even feel like it's her talking.

"I _need_ to leave," he rectifies. "I don't _want_ to. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

But she cannot do that, because he's leaving her and how can he even be thinking about leaving her? She's always been there for him for the past two years, and now he's—

He has already opened the door again, and she watches him as he closes it behind him. And everything in her wants to scream, _No, please don't leave, please don't leave me_, but she stays silent and lets herself walk to the door, locking it closed behind him.

Slowly, she turns her back to the door, but she cannot walk away from it, so she lets herself slide down the panel. Her eyes are dry; she thinks she should be crying, but her eyes are _so_ dry.

And then she remembers her sister's words. She doesn't need comfort right now, she just needs to _let it all out_. And so she starts to cry.


	7. Broken Hearts Broken Hope (GinnyNeville)

_Summary:__ Of misunderstandings and broken hearts._

_Rating:__ T_

_Warning:__ Mention of torture, unwanted kiss_

_Disclaimer:__ Nothing is mine, everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. No money is made out of this._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC - Round 5]**_

_**House:**__ Slytherin_

_**Class:**__ DADA_

_**Category:**__ Standard_

_**Prompt:**__ 3\. [emotion] heartbroken_

_Word count (without the A/N): 1,252 words_

* * *

_**Broken Hearts, Broken Hope: **_**Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom**

* * *

I felt so hopeless. That was the tragic thing about war. It could make you feel so alone, so full of despair, that you didn't know who you were anymore. What you were fighting for.

I tried not to think about it, of course. But it was too hard. Harry and Hermione and Ron were alone against the whole world out there, and I was left behind here at Hogwarts, and though it usually felt like home… It didn't anymore.

It was all wrong, and how were we, a bunch of hopeless kids, supposed to fight back when in truth… we didn't even _believe_ anymore? It broke my heart, because how could we have ever let it go this far?

"It's all wrong, Ginny," Neville said from his place on the floor in front of me. "How could it turn out so wrong? I mean, we're supposed to be the good guys, and the good guys are supposed to win, and I can't—"

He took a deep breath, and when I looked at him, I could only see a reflection of myself. _Too young_, I thought. _We're too young to be like this. Broken._ It wasn't true though. Because no one could ever be too young to feel defeated by a war they shouldn't even be fighting in the first place. And we shouldn't be here right now, in a cold Common Room that didn't feel like home anymore. We shouldn't be here, we should be outside, fighting for all the goodness in the world, and not be trapped here without an escape!

He could read the expression on my face—my lips pressed tightly together, my brows furrowing and my eyes probably lighting with fire—and he leaned slightly towards me. Perhaps I could give him a little of my strength, perhaps—

And I tried. I really tried to give him a little hope, a little something to go on, but all I could utter was the answer to his question, "I don't know. It just did." And I was sure there was something like defeat on my face, because he sighed and rested his head against the wall.

I moved to sit beside him and took one of his hands in mine.

"Maybe it will get better," I whispered, and I searched in his eyes for a little encouragement.

I wasn't expecting what he did next. Really, it was stupid of me. I should have thought about what he could be expecting from a girl leaning so close to him and taking his hand in hers, but I didn't. And so when his lips crashed on mine, I sat frozen, half-turned towards him as his lips covered mine.

He seemed to sense something was off, though, and he leaned away from me. As soon as he saw the look on my face, he became livid and apologized profusely, "I'm so sorry, Ginny. I just… I thought—"

"It's okay," I answered, but even I could sense the tension in my voice.

"No, it's not! I knew you were—you _are_ still in love with Harry, and I kissed you anyway!"

I couldn't really believe it; was I really so easy to read through? I hadn't told anyone of my feelings for Harry, of anything that might have happened between us… But then again, I wasn't necessarily the most discreet person to ever walk this earth, so it could be possible.

"I—I don't think I'll ever see Harry again, Neville," I suddenly admitted, and even though my heart broke a little—all over again—at admitting it, I felt somehow better. "I don't think it's a mission he can come back from, what he's doing right now."

Neville just shrugged, and he looked _so much_ like he agreed with me that it hurt.

"We'll keep fighting though, right?" he asked me, and I nodded, because that was the only thing we could still do; that was the only thing that could somehow _change_ something.

* * *

And we did. All of us, together. Dumbledore's Army had risen again from its ashes, and we were still fighting. But they—the Carrows, the Slytherins, all of them—they_ knew_ something. I was sure of it. They never showed it, of course, and they couldn't track us down, couldn't find us, but they knew. If any proof was needed, I was willing to take their torture sessions as one. They increased just as much as the frequency of our meetings.

I didn't know if it was a miracle or a curse, but they hadn't hurt me yet. Hadn't used the Cruciatus curse on me, hadn't scarred me. They hadn't done anything, and I was beginning to wonder if they wished to break me in that way. Seeing my friends, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Dean, _Neville_, being tortured, sometimes for something I'd done… I was starting to think they _had_ finally gotten to me.

I was waiting for Neville to walk through the door of the Room of Requirement. I had gotten out as soon as Neville had started his little fight against the Carrow brother. I'd wondered—did he really have to push it that far, to challenge them every chance he got? Perhaps it was his way of fighting, of keeping up his hopes. But at what cost?

"Ginny." I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard his voice.

"I was waiting for you," I whispered, getting up from my place on the floor. "I wanted to know how you were doing."

"I'm fine," he answered curtly, and really, what was his problem?

I asked him that aloud, and he looked at me with such an incredulous look on his face that I frowned. What was I missing? Was he angry against me now? What had happened earlier, and—?

"Do you really think I'm pissed because of what happened earlier, Ginny?" he finally asked.

When I shrugged, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair (and I couldn't help but notice the deep scar on his left cheek).

"It's not about the Carrows," Neville continued. "Well, I was definitely mad at them this morning, but right now… It's not about them. It's about me. And you. And what I've done on that stupid day. Because I couldn't help but notice the looks you're giving me. And _they_ are really starting to piss me off."

Ah… So he had noticed that I couldn't act normally around him, that I resented him for what he'd done… But he didn't know that there was something else. Because he was the one who was here, still fighting with me (_for_ me, sometimes), not Harry. Because this kiss I hadn't wanted hadn't bothered me as much as I thought it would, when I thought about it again.

"You need to stop, Ginny," Neville told me, his voice strained (with pain or regret, I really couldn't tell). "I'm not the one who's in love with someone else here. So go to bed, and please, please… Stop giving me false hope, okay? I've had enough of that already."

And I wanted to speak to him, to tell him that I had never wanted to break his heart, but I couldn't open my mouth and he strode away, towards Seamus's bunk. And I couldn't stop him, and I could feel it—the pain in my heart that I knew all too well, the one that had filled me when Harry had left.

I was only left with one question: _did I really have to make all the same mistakes all over again?_


	8. love (how it burns) (James & Lily)

_Summary:__ It burns through him, and he wants to scream at the world that he's in love with Lily Evans._

_Rating:__ K+_

_Disclaimer:__ Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any money out of this story._

_.:._

_Written for:_

_**[THC - Round 6]**_

_**House:**__ Slytherin_

_**Class:**__ DADA_

_**Category:**__ Standard_

_**Prompt:**__ 2\. [Romantic Pairing] Lily Potter (or Evans) / James Potter_

_**[HSWW]**__ Assignment #8: History of Magic — Ministers of Magic__ / Task #1 — Write about a pairing made from two people of different purity (__**Pure-Blood**__ and __**Muggleborn**__ here)._

_Word count (without the A/N): 1,089 words_

* * *

_**love (how it burns): **_**James Potter and Lily Evans**

* * *

Lily looks up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. She takes his wrist in her small hand, takes off her shoes and then tugs him after her as she runs on the sand beach.

He is mesmerized by the way the sun plays in her hair. It makes her look as if flames cascade down her back, and he's never found her more beautiful than she is now, and it is saying something because he has _always_ found her magnificent.

But right now, there is fire in her hair, and fire in her eyes, and fire in her heart, and he just loves her. He can't help it… and even if he could, he's not sure he _would_.

"James, come on!" she growls as she turns towards him. "You're not even following!"

"Clearly, I am," he replies with a cheeky grin. "With my shoes still on…" he grumbles then, and he sees her eyes glow with malice as a smirk plays on her lips. "You could have let me take them off, at least."

She shakes her head violently. And he loves it when she just does this, when she acts as free as this, because it's just so… rare. She's always so serious at Hogwarts, and it just feels good to watch her enjoy herself a little.

But he protests half-heartedly anyway. "It seems you enjoy my pain a little too much, Lils."

"It's just sand!" she retorts immediately, looking up at him with her bright emerald eyes that just shine in the sun. "Don't tell me your feet are hurting now, or I might just have to do something about it."

His eyebrows rise and he decides to play along, "And what would that be exactly, Evans?"

"Oh, I don't know yet. You would have to let me think about it first, Potter."

But there's a light shining in her eyes, and she sets fire to his heart and he just laughs quietly before he grips her hand more tightly to prevent her from escaping and pulls her towards him. She sighs exasperatedly, but she lets him do it all the same.

"You'll be the death of me," he murmurs before he kisses her forehead—not her lips, not yet anyway.

When he pulls away, he sees the light in her eyes, and suddenly, there is something in him that just bursts and wants to scream at the world that _he loves Lily Evans_. And he's still young, only seventeen, and they've only been dating for a few months, almost a year, but he's always loved her and he knows he will _always_ love her. No matter what comes their way next, no matter the war brewing on the horizon… Nothing, _nothing_, would ever change that.

He's never told her, he realizes then. So he leans in and his lips brush against the shell of her ear, and he feels her shiver when he whispers the words. He pulls away then, and he watches as her eyes grow wide.

She's not smiling anymore, and he suddenly worries. Maybe that's too much, maybe she doesn't love him back. Or maybe she didn't want him to say it first, or maybe… But no. Lily Evans has never been romantic. And indeed, he shouldn't have worried because he sees the answer in her beautiful, emerald eyes before she can even utter it.

But she never does utter anything. She just kisses him passionately, her hands gliding on his arm to finally rest on the back of his neck. Her fingers tangle themselves in his dark hair, and that makes him finally answer the kiss. He kisses her as deeply as he can, and they stand together and kiss for the longest time.

He finally pulls away and he smiles at her. She smiles back, but still, she doesn't say anything. He doesn't worry though, not anymore. The way she looks at him is enough of an answer for now.

* * *

Later that day, they're back at Lily's parents' cottage, and they walk hand in hand on the sandy path that leads up to the door. James looks at Lily, and he doesn't even hide it. She has a slight smirk on her face, like she just knows what's going on in his mind.

"You know, I think you're just about to burn a hole through me with the force of that stare," she finally says as she turns her head to look back at him.

"It's not my fault if you're that beautiful," he answers simply.

It's the truth—he has sworn to himself that he would always tell her the truth, no matter how painful, what feels like an eternity ago—and yet she seems to think otherwise because she rolls her eyes.

So he just makes her stop and look at him. And he has never been more honest in his life when he says, "It's the truth, Lils. I don't think you realize just how beautiful you are."

She immediately responds, "You're just saying that because you're… in love with me." He notices the pause in her words, but he knows it's not because she doubts him. It's because she does not believe she can finally say this.

"No, it's not that. Well, it does help," he corrects himself with a playful smile. And then he's serious again when he leans a little closer to her, aligning his hazel gaze with her green one. "You're beautiful. All of you. Your hair—you have no idea what you looked like, with your hair burning up in flames on that beach. And your eyes. There's spirit in there, and intelligence, and kindness, and they're just the most beautiful shade of emerald I have ever seen. But what made me fall in love with you isn't your beauty, Evans. It's just… you."

He doesn't know how to explain it, but he doesn't need to. He can see the understanding that downs on her when her eyes fill with tears, and suddenly she's kissing him again. But it's not passionate this time. It's just a brush of her lips on his, but it's more tender and more loving than any kiss she has ever given him, and he doesn't seek for more.

In fact, he could spend the whole of eternity in her arms, with the tips of her fingers gently caressing his cheeks and carding through his hair, with the sensation that her lips and her love brings to him.

And he realize then that he can ask no more than that.


End file.
